Finding Nowhere
by A.N. Clara
Summary: Alfred Jones, a single father in 1950s America, moves to a little town in hopes of escaping his past in the big city. There he meets the town's bookshop owner, Arthur, who has a talent for making Alfred's daughter happy. Knowing any relationship would be impossible and dangerous, Alfred must make another difficult decision. 1950s AU. UKUS.


Madeline simply would not play along with me, staring out the window, yet refusing to tell me what she saw. There were plenty of new things to look at, but she could not care less about that. She was so moody lately, definitely not in the mindset needed to enjoy discovery, and I couldn't help but to try to cheer her up. It never worked. I felt like a failure as a father.

"You have to see something," I stated. She ignored me. "Do you know what I spy?" No response. "I spy... something beautiful–no, I spy the _most_ _beautiful _thing I have ever seen."

Madeline glanced at me out of the corner of her eye and sighed. "It's me, isn't it?"

"How did you know? I just knew you'd be good at this game."

"You're so weird, Dad."

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. "When did this whole 'Dad' thing start? I was Daddy just yesterday."

She returned to looking out the window at the sleepy little town we were going to call home, obviously displeased with it already. I wished it didn't have to be this way. Madeline and I were no longer welcome where we came from, so this was the only option we had. We had nowhere else left to go. I wish I could make her understand.

"I'm really hungry," Madeline announced quietly as we entered the town.

She never complained unless she truly meant it. It had probably been hours since she first realized she was hungry and was too polite to mention it before. I was so caught up in the move that I wasn't in the mood to eat and must have also forgotten to feed her along the way. Now I knew I was an awful father.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'll find somewhere to eat soon, I promise."

Soon took longer than I thought. Every building in the town looked like it was built for the same purpose, rundown, rectangular buildings from the beginning of the century, converted into something not so outdated, or new factories that produced the latest must-haves. Nothing looked nearly as friendly as it attempted to with its peeling bright paints, sun-faded awnings, and the familiar faces of product models you could find in every city in America, only from five years ago. I was seriously reconsidering this relocation until I looked at Madeline and knew that I had to keep her safe no matter what. We would be happy here if it killed us.

After driving around for what seemed like forever, we came across a building that appeared out of place: a tiny bookshop. It was a two story standalone, unattached to the establishments that sat beside it, and the top floor must have been an apartment, for the curtains drawn shut to keep wandering eyes out. From what I noticed, it was the only relatively new building around. I figured whomever owned the shop should know where to find a diner around here, and I would much rather ask them than any of the other people I had yet to meet. Something about this place in particular seemed genuine.

We parked in front of the store and Madeline insisted she stay in the car. She would not give me an answer as to why she wanted to sit outside, but I gave in, knowing that it was the least I could do for starving the poor girl. I ventured into the foreign land alone, praying that there was a place to get some food around town as I was a terrible cook and there was no woman in my life to do so for me. This experience would be very interesting indeed if I had to learn after twenty years of eating hamburgers from the restaurant down the block.

Upon entering, I was pleased to see that the inside of the building was a diverse as the outside. No two of the bookshelves were exactly the same; some of them tall and thin, others short and fat. Each one of them was constructed of a different type of wood, the colors varying depending on material and the finish, and some had rounded corners, or sharp edges, which set up the feeling that the store was in a state of organized chaos that I enjoyed already. The books themselves were neatly alphabetized by Author's last name and appeared to be regularly dusted as everything was utterly spotless. I pondered what a strange person must run this shop, deciding I liked them already.

"I swear to god," I heard a man say in a threatening tone from behind one of the shelves. This was followed by a commotion of books falling to the floor, which he swore at under his breath.

"Are you alright there?"

The sound of the man picking up the books ceased. He peered around the corner with a scowl in place, his large eyebrows knitted together between his eyes in frustration. Other than the caterpillars on his forehead, the rest of his face was pleasing to look at. He was actually very handsome, his green eyes breathtakingly luminous. His ears were also pointed a bit at the top, partially hidden by his messy blond hair, which made him resemble a magical creature, perhaps an elf.

Once he saw me, his mouth fell open and he began to apologize. "Please forgive me. I didn't hear you come in."

"No, it's fine. Are you okay?"

The man appeared to think about it for a moment. "Yes, thank you." He had a British accent and did not smile, not even a bit. I wondered why that was. "How may I help you?"

"Actually, I'm new to town and wanted to know if there's somewhere nearby I can grab a bite to eat."

"Absolutely. Diane runs a little place not too far from here. It's the only restaurant in town. I can point it out to you, if you'd like."

"That would be just dandy, thank you. My name is Jones, Alfred Jones."

I held out my hand for him to shake. The angry book elf perked up a bit as though most people wouldn't offer him a friendly handshake upon meeting. If they didn't, that was awfully rude of them. I had no idea why he reacted this way. He firmly grasped my hand and pumped it once, dropping it after we both lingered for a second. My stomach started churning when I met his eyes.

"I am Arthur Kirkland."

"Arthur Kirkland..." I hadn't meant to say it out loud. He looked startled, ready to run back to his elf life amongst the books. I had to cover. "It has been a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise, Mr. Jones."

"Please, call me Alfred."

We maintained eye contact for a long time–it was perfect. Arthur must have not thought much of it. Men were so odd during this time that it was strange to meet someone like him. There was a fine line drawn between friendly and being one of those homos, so it was especially difficult for me to remain on the side society told me was okay. It seemed Arthur had a rather hard time with that as well.

I remembered Madeline was sitting in the car then and I knew I couldn't do this to her again. This was our last chance to live an ordinary life. If I messed this up, it was all over.

"Ha-ha! Look at us, acting like a bunch of queers! Let us find that diner, huh?"

I said this so easily it hurt. Others had called me that, and worse, my entire life. Saying it in nonchalance made my very skin crawl. It seemed to make Arthur uncomfortable as well, though that is exactly how white American men spoke during this time. I pondered why it would bother him, letting it go before I thought too much about it.

We exited the book store in silence, my otherwise ordinary comment killing all conversation. Madeline sat up a little straighter in her seat, seeing I had another man with me, and she hopped out of the car without me asking her to do so. She brushed off her dress, putting on a shy smile.

"This is my daughter, Madeline," I prefaced.

"Hello, sir. It is very nice to meet you." She behaved so much better than I had at her age. I was very proud of her.

Arthur got down on one knee and bowed to her. "You didn't tell me your daughter was a princess. I have never met a princess before! Hello, Lady Madeline. It is an honor to meet your acquaintance."

Madeline grinned and blushed, too shy to respond to the compliment. She simply nodded to acknowledge what he said. Arthur had made her smile more in two seconds than I had in weeks. I was jealous, but also incredibly happy. My heart beat a little faster. The angry book elf made the light of my life happy.

"So you can see my dilemma, Arthur. I have yet to serve the fair princess dinner and she is quite famished."

Arthur smiled for the first time at Madeline. "We ought to feed you, then. Come, princess, I shall take thee to the finest eatery in the entirety of the kingdom."

My daughter's eyes lit up, her expression full of awe and delight. She took Arthur's hand and he led us to Diane's, which was settled on the corner less than a city block from the book store. Several of the letters on her neon sign had burned out, spelling the ominous word "die", and a shudder ran through me. I began hoping I didn't make a huge mistake in coming here. No one else seemed to notice, nor did they care.

Arthur and Madeline talked about fairies and dragons and other fantastical things that she seemed to enjoy immensely. She asked him questions about river nymphs, who were her favorite, wondering if this town happened to have any. Arthur hummed and tapped his chin in thought.

"You know, I haven't the foggiest idea if we we have any nymphs," he said, much to Madeline's disappointment. "Perhaps we can go looking for some another time. I never thought to search for nymphs before."

Madeline nodded fervently. "Oh yes, please! They are so lovely! Daddy told me so."

Arthur glanced at me with the corner of his lips turned up. "Did he, now? What could he possibly know about nymphs?"

"He knows plenty!" Madeline defended. "He said they love to play, but only with each other and little girls they really like. I've never played with them, though. Daddy says it takes them a very long time to decide if they like someone."

"That is true. They are truly very shy."

"He told me that they used to play with my mother when she was a little girl. Do you think that's true?"

Arthur suddenly realized that there was no woman around that could possibly be Madeline's mother. He frowned at me. I had no time to explain the situation to him, but he managed to save the moment.

"Of course I do. If your mummy was half as charming as you are, she was the nymphs' very best friend."

I breathed a sigh of relief, glad that Arthur handled that much better than I ever could have. Madeline beamed proudly, extremely happy that her father not only told the truth, but that her mother was friends with her absolute favorite thing on the planet. Arthur continued to look sad. We arrived inside Diane's not a moment later and he began to excuse himself.

"Nonsense," I said. "Please join us for dinner. It's been too long since Madeline and I met someone new, and we're going to be neighbors now. We can get to know each other."

Arthur looked unsure. For the sake of being neighborly, however, he reluctantly agreed. We took a booth in the run-down diner with both Arthur and I on one side, Madeline on the other. She requested to have her own seat so that she could talk to both of us at the same time. Surprised by how quickly she had opened up to a stranger, I could hardly argue with her. Madeline was a timid girl that had a difficult time making friends. Far be it from me to scorn her for finding comfort in the stories of an incredibly handsome book elf. I didn't mind sitting next to him either.

A middle–aged woman with kind eyes and deep laugh lines approached our table, greeting us first, then Arthur. "Who are these fine young people you have brought in today?"

"Diane, this is Lady Madeline, our new princess, and her father, Alfred," he explained with an added wave of his hands.

"I didn't know we had a princess!" Diane exclaimed, pressing a hand over her heart. "Welcome to our town, princess. What can I do for you?"

Madeline gave me "the look", her blue eyes growing wide in pleading. I sighed, but told her to go ahead. She deserved whatever she wanted tonight.

"May I have pancakes, please," she whispered with her eyes cast down.

"Why, sure, sweetheart. You can have all the pancakes your little heart desires." Diane turned to me.

"I'm not hungry just yet. Some coffee will do just fine."

When she came to Arthur, he held up a hand. "No, thank you. I've already eaten. Perhaps a spot of tea, though?"

Diane rolled her eyes in a joking manner. "I'll get right on it. Holler if you need me."

Madeline was looking at us in a way that made me uneasy, and I think it had the same effect on Arthur. He put a little more distance between us, sitting on the edge of the bench. When I asked Madeline what was wrong, she shrugged, giggling quietly. There was no hope. She was very good at keeping secrets and actually took pride in it. Even if it was her secret alone, sometimes I would never find out what it was. I brushed off my discomfort.

"How long have you worked at the book store?" I asked, hoping that would ease us back into a conversation.

"I have owned it for a little over a year now. The last owner was moving out of town when I was moving in and asked if I would take over for him. Seeing as I had nothing better to do, I agreed."

"So, the bookshelves...?"

"They are dreadful, aren't they? Not a single one matches another."

I shook my head. "I think they give the place character."

"I thought Americans believed that only the military grants character," Arthur remarked.

"Some more than others. I couldn't imagine sending my child to war." My darling Madeline looked up at me with fear in her eyes. "Don't worry, sweetheart, only boys go to war."

She was soothed by this. Diane brought out our drinks and set them down without a word. We let them be for the moment.

"What is it that you do, Mr. Jones?"

"Alfred," I corrected. "I was a stockbroker in New York. Now, well, I don't know what I'm going to do now."

Arthur's eyebrows came together once more in puzzlement. "Why did you leave New York?"

I panicked, even though I had a story planned out in case anyone asked. My pulse skyrocketed and my hands began to sweat. "It was time for a change. The city is no place to raise a child. Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

Madeline nodded in agreement, though she hadn't been paying attention. She only came back to reality when her pancakes arrived and she poured nearly half a gallon of syrup on them. I didn't have the heart to scold her. Arthur just smiled a bit.

I began to prepare my coffee, stirring in sugar first, waiting for it to all dissolve as Madeline devoured her pancakes. Arthur started on his tea. We both reached for the cream at the same time and our hands brushed together, but neither one of us pulled away. I blushed and cleared my throat, removing my hand. I didn't dare look at him.

"Uhm, you go ahead."

"Thank you..."

I was doing it again. It was too early to ruin this chance, but I liked Arthur. He was an angry elf of a man that was capable of making my daughter happy. For some reason, he did not react the way most other men would either. I had my fair share of experience with those who needed to prove their masculinity after bumping shoulders with someone of the same sex. Arthur only appeared a bit embarrassed by the contact, but never tried to cover it up, nor did he start to flirt with the passing waitress to regain some semblance of manliness.

"Arthur," Madeline said sweetly after finishing her pancakes, "are you married?"

Arthur coughed a bit, the question making him nervous. "Why, no, Madeline. I am not."

"Why not?"

His eyes grew wide with panic. Right as he was about to answer, I cut in. "Now, Madeline Williams, that was awfully rude."

She covered her mouth with her hand, looking mortified. "I am dreadfully sorry, Daddy. I didn't mean to be rude." She glanced at Arthur as a sinner does God.

"It's alright, princess. I just moved her not too long ago, you see. I haven't had the time to find a wife."

That was the same answer I always gave anyone who asked. He had to be lying. Anyone that "hasn't had time" simply has not been looking. People were getting married left and right; men and women who hardly knew each other but wanted to become a normal member of society. It was expected of you to settle down and have children as soon as you could. Having Madeline, there was less pressure on me to do so, but pressure regardless. How had Arthur gone so long without being married?

"I want you to be my Daddy."

That stung me. Arthur was flattered, but he knew how badly that hurt. "You already have a father and he seems to be a very good one."

"No, I want you to be my Daddy, too. You don't have a wife and neither does Daddy. You can be his wife."

Living with a seven-year-old in the 1950s was difficult, though not nearly as difficult as it was when you had an open-minded little girl like Madeline growing up in the oppression. Arthur chewed on his lip and looked around, making sure that no one heard what she had said. I took her hand in mine across the table, giving her the most stern look I could muster in my embarrassment. This beautiful little girl was going to be the death of me.

"Daddy is going to have a serious talk with you later about this, okay, sweetheart?"

Madeline had the fear of God struck in her. She nodded, repentant. "Okay, Daddy."

I was concerned enough about my own behavior as it was. Now I had to worry about Madeline saying the wrong thing to the wrong person. I never wanted her to become something I hated, but apparently it was time to teach her how to be a "proper" child. It pained my heart to even think about teaching her those awful words they called me, turning her into an intolerant drone of the system. She deserved so much better than that.

The rest of the meal consisted of dull conversation about the town and nearly anything that would not lead us back to my obvious attraction to Arthur. He was nervous, though no more so than I was, and we made it to the bill, which I paid, without another awkward silence. Arthur tried to pay for his own, reaching for the check that I held out of his reach. When our hands touched again, neither of us blushed; we were too busy arguing. My gut felt like it had been twisted, a dishcloth being wrung out.

When Diane took my payment and I turned to asked Madeline if she was ready to go, I found her curled up on the seat, out cold. I wished I could sleep like that, remembering the days when me and my brother could and would fall asleep literally anywhere. She did not even stir when I lifted her up and rested her head on my shoulder. It had been a long day for us all.

We walked back to the bookshop, Arthur and I conversing quietly about the weather and whatnot. He offered to let us stay in the spare bedroom above the shop for the night since the truck full of our furniture had yet to arrive. There was a tension in the air, something unresolved, and he was too polite to bring it up until I had Madeline tucked into bed.

Arthur sat next to an open window and delicately lit a cigarette, puffing white smoke until the end blazed a bright red. Every movement he made had the fluidity of water. His body was slender and pale, especially at the wrists, and incredibly attractive without meaning to be. He looked at me, green eyes glowing through the curtain of blond. An eyebrow was raised at me.

"Fag?"

"What?" I questioned, slightly offended, but more anxious at what the word implied.

Arthur appeared confused. "Oh, that's right. You Americans don't call them that. Terribly sorry. Do you smoke?"

Relief flooded me, and I nodded. Arthur tossed me a pack and a lighter. I lit the cigarette, praying it would calm my nerves. We remained in silence for several moments until he was overcome with concern.

"Why does Madeline have a different surname than you?" he asked with the hand holding the cigarette blocking his mouth.

I had not noticed that I slipped up with that. With an annoyed sigh, I leaned against the wall and ran a hand through my hair. There was no sense in hiding it. "She's actually my niece."

"Then why on earth does she think you're her father?"

"My half-brother, Matthew, and his wife died in a car accident when she was only a few months old. Their wills declared me her new legal guardian because neither of them had very much family. So, that's where she came from.

"God knows I wasn't ready for a kid. When she started calling me 'Dada', I didn't know what to do. What do I tell her? Do I admit to a two-year-old that she's an orphan? She doesn't even remember she had parents. How do I explain that she is different from all of the other little girls who have a mommy and a daddy at home? I thought it would be easier for her if she at least had a father. Maybe it was just easier for me."

Arthur tried to come up with an appropriate response. "That's very kind of you."

"No," I admitted. "It's selfish. I treat her like she is my own daughter, but I have to lie to her everyday. She asks about her mother a lot. I have told her everything I know about her. It isn't nearly enough. Madeline wants to know everything. 'What's her favorite color?' 'Did she like ice skating?' 'How did she like to do her hair?' God if I know! I met the woman only a handful of times."

"She's a fine young lady," he said. "You have raised her very well. I'm surprised."

"Why? Because I'm loud and idiotic and –"

"No; because you're a man." Arthur said this with a twinge of bitterness in his voice. I looked at him as he stared at the ground. "I thought men were incapable of raising children to be compassionate, kind human beings. You've surprised me."

I wish I had something to say to that. No one had ever told me I was a good father before and I was shocked.

He put out his cigarette, grinding it against the ashtray that sat upon the windowsill. It was only half gone. Arthur noticed me staring, meeting my eyes with a vague sense of interest, his lips twisted into a sad smile.

"You know, they're saying these things cause cancer. If they are right, I suppose it is time to give up the habit."

Arthur said nothing more, deciding that he had enough excitement for the day, then bid me a good night. I felt like I had not spent enough time with him, even though we had met a mere few hours ago. He was something new and exciting, someone I needed to know more about. I, too, let my cigarette burn out.

When I entered the spare room, Madeline was awake. She smiled at me with the lidded eyes of an angel. "Hi, Daddy. Where's Arthur?"

"He went to bed."

"Are you both mad at me for saying you should marry him?" She seemed genuinely upset.

"Of course we aren't. That is just... something we shouldn't say around other people. You can always tell me anything, sweetheart, but some people don't understand things like that."

Madeline blinked, thinking this over. "I like Arthur. Would you marry him?"

I couldn't begin to explain to her how impossible that would be and how much I wish I could. "You know what? One day, maybe I will. But don't tell anyone, okay? I want it to be our secret."

That got her. She would never tell another living soul now. "Do you think my mother would like him?" It was only a matter of time before that question came up.

"I think your mother would like him very much. She always loved angry book elves."

"Arthur is an elf!?" Madeline exclaimed in joy, instantly perking up.

I laughed and put a finger to my lips. "Don't–don't tell him I said that. I can't be sure, but I think so. That's how he knows so much about the fairies and nymphs."

"But Daddy! He's a _real_, live elf!"

"And it's time for you to go to bed. Tomorrow is another long day. We have a lot to do."

"Will Arthur come with us to the new house?" Madeline was not going to let this go.

"Maybe he will. You can ask him tomorrow."

We went to bed shortly after that, Madeline continuing to ask me questions about Arthur and if any of the other people in town were magical creatures. She finally fell back asleep as I tossed and turned. It was impossible to sleep now. I was hungry and so tired I could not even think of sitting still.

If I was being honest with myself, what truly kept me awake was the idea of Arthur staying just a room away. He was most likely asleep, his spellbinding eyes closed for the night, dreaming of whatever it was that actually made him happy. I wanted to see him–had to. He needed to rest, though. My chest constricted and I could hardly breathe just thinking about him.

Realizing my attempt to sleep was halfhearted at best, I got up a while later to sit in the living room so I wouldn't wake Madeline with my restlessness. Arthur was sat on a chair next to the window, a large, worn book in his hands. Apparently he had also been unable to succumb to the night's comfort and had the same idea. He looked up at me with a question in his eyes.

"I couldn't sleep. This move has been so stressful I find it hard to do anything but think about it."

"Are you going to tell me the real reason why you left?" he asked with no hint of accusation. "I can already assume, but I'd like to hear it from you. What is it that you're running away from?" Arthur was far more perceptive than I was, more than I gave him credit for.

"Are you writing a book?" I snapped. "The only thing I'm running from is big city life. I told you a child had no business growing up in New York."

"You're by far the worst liar I have ever met. It's because you like men, isn't it?"

I stuttered out a denial.

He closed his book and set it on the table next to him. "Come now. You haven't taken your eyes off of me all night." This was a statement and nothing about it could be argued. "The only time you looked away was when you thought you were seen."

"Arthur, I –"

His voice dropped to an alluring whisper. "If you weren't so busy trying to curb your own urges, you might have noticed I was looking at you the same way."

I stopped. Had he truly said what I thought he did? He smirked in a way that made my heart ache. Arthur curled his finger; there was a devilish look in his eye and he wanted me to come closer. I was hooked before he could say another word. It had been so long since I was with a man I had forgotten what it felt like to be overcome with desire for someone. Without any inhibitions holding me back, I fell to my knees at his feet.

"Do you know how long it's taken for someone like you–like me–to come to the god forsaken town?" His tone was low, seductive, almost silent.

I was reminded of my sleeping child in the next room, the reason we moved to this town in the first place. "Arthur, I came here to keep Madeline safe."

He nodded slowly, tilted my chin up, and looked me straight in the eye. "Then don't do anything to get us caught." He pressed his lips to mine and I was gone.

I made a promise. "Okay..."


End file.
